"How did your weekend go, Suzanne?" a co-worker inquired.
"We got to take The Boy grocery shopping!" I replied enthusiastically.
Why the hell do I derive so much satisfaction from that activity? Although The Boy seems to enjoy it too. Shocking, I know. A college student excited about a well-stocked pantry. Doh. Our mutual satisfaction with the activity certainly has differing origins. Matters not. It was good for me, baby.
One of the items that ended up in the cart was a squash.
It was as large as his head.
"What kind of squash is that?" I asked.
"A green one," he replied, "I'm going to steam it."
"I wonder if this stir-fry sauce is any good," he pondered.
"Try it," I suggested.
Into the cart it went.
"Are you still eating yogurt?" I asked as we were exiting the dairy aisle.
"Yeah!" he said, making a beeline for the display.
Ah, those little things.
$111.42.
The best money I've spent in ages.
What little things bring you joy?
Clarification addenda: It was not the spending of money that brought me joy. The Joy with a capital "J" was the act of shopping with The Boy. Simple, yes? Why do I feel the need to add such an edit? Well, that's between me and, well, let's say the proverbial fencepost. Or something like that.
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5 comments:
I love watching my dog get a new pig ear and chewing it down -- every Saturday morning. She gets gleeful eyes!! Or taking her for walks -- that is what makes me happy!
When my boys (ages 8 and 10) grab my hand when we're taking a walk, or when the older, more flexible one curls up in my lap in the morning still warm from bed, or when the younger, less flexible one throws his arms around me and just holds on. Don't cost nuthin' but these things are worth the world.
When I get into bed at night, and ask my love "what was the best part of your day," and she replies, "right now, getting to go to sleep next to you."
That makes me the happiest.
The horrible cliche of looking into the eyes of my son. Sad but true. They are so big and brown and just beautiful.
That and spending time alone with my husband, which doesn't happen nearly often enough.
I'm so right there with you. I get it. Completely.
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